Mantel in the library.
Another almost unbearably beautiful day and one in which I did not read much news. It just is what it is.
And what it is is Gibson's birthday! Eight years old today and the plan had been for the family to go to Disney World for the kids' spring break and celebrate Gibson's birthday there but of course, what seemed possible a week ago is not remotely so now.
But Lily made the most of it and took the kids to a beach where there were very few people and none nearly as close as six feet away and they swam and played in the sand and had a picnic and this evening there will be cake and pizza. From the pictures she sent, it would appear that the day was not a complete bust. In fact, I think there was joy.
We called the birthday boy this morning and when we got ahold of him he said, "Why are you calling me?"
Oh, Gibson. All last week he kept saying, "So Mer, do you know what big event is about to happen?"
Some of you remember when he looked like this.
What a beautiful newborn he was, born in his parent's bed, the first hands to touch him were his father's. Lily is a warrior mama. Both of my daughters who have given birth are. They just get the job done! What a wonderful day that was, the day our boy Gibson Monroe was born.
Love in the time of the Corona Virus. How you doin'? You okay? I sure hope so. It's still such early days and we're all figuring it out, aren't we? I did a little laundry, hung clothes, pulled some weeds, did a crossword, made a lemon meringue pie for no apparent reason except that I have surfeit of lemons and plenty of eggs. Bless my sweet hens.
This morning I cracked open that huge egg that Miss Susie laid and was incredibly surprised to find that its yolk (a single yolk) was hardly bigger than the yolk of a very small egg that I cracked right beside it in the bowl.
Looks can be deceiving.
Size doesn't always matter.
Mr. Moon spent half the day looking over a contract and the other half working on his boat. He's still working on his boat. Therein lies a story.
A few days ago he told me that a friend of his, a guy he goes fishing with, was planning a trip out on the Gulf to fish on Saturday and that he wanted to go too. He promised to use so much hand sanitizer and so on and so forth.
I went a tiny bit nuclear and pointed out that dammit, you cannot keep a six-foot distance between three (or four?) guys on a fishing boat. Period, the end. That it's not just touching. It's breathing.
And we have made a compromise.
He is going to go fishing tomorrow with his friend but he is going to have his own boat and they will just stick together close enough to keep an eye out and even to talk, probably, but will maintain safe distance.
I just heaved a huge sigh, even thinking about this.
Am I being overly concerned? Is he being way too casual and taking unnecessary chances?
Yes. And yes. Probably. I don't know.
I have friends who are positively self-quarantining. There are risk factors involved there. And then there's Lily who is about to go back to work in a grocery store. And Jessie, who is about to go back to work in a hospital. And people who are still working in all kinds of jobs and in all kinds of conditions who are risking their lives for the benefit of others. There are quite necessary reasons to leave one's house.
And for Mr. Moon, a day out on the Gulf is one of them.
May he bring home fish for us to eat. And not a virus for us to catch.
I just Face Timed with Gibson. He seems very happy and that makes me happy. He said they had a great time at the beach.
I'm sure there are other things I was going to talk about but I've forgotten them, whatever they were.
Oh! Did you see Trump lose his shit completely when a reporter asked him what he could say to Americans who are so very worried about this virus?
I think the man is melting down as he realizes that he cannot bullshit his way through this very real situation. That certainly doesn't help things, does it?
I would say that I keep thinking about how Barack Obama would have handled this crisis but- see above.
It is what it is. We cannot change what has happened and we cannot control what is happening. We can simply do the best we can. And I am incredibly grateful for these beautiful spring days and chickens sunbathing in the yard
and blooming wisteria and the newest, tenderest, bravest, greenest leaves in the oak trees. For plenty to eat, for family who is right now healthy. For a husband to share all of this with. For books to read and a yard to tend.
For potatoes coming up in the garden.
For Benadryl and Ativan if I need them. For texting and phoning and Face Time. For you, wherever you live, who are going through all of this at the same time as I am. As we all are. For those of you who write your own blogs to share your own experiences, for those of you who take time to comment here, for those of you who come and read and find something that may be useful.
And also, for laws that will hopefully deal harshly with lawmakers who had inside information on what this crisis was going to be like and sold their stocks while telling the nation not to panic, to be calm, that all was well.
Dianne Feinstein? Really? Et tu, Brute?
Well. So it goes. I am wishing us all health. Do what you gotta do.